Aman's Destruction
by XLightfoot
Summary: Frodo is sailing to the Undying Land with Galadriel, Elrond, Gandalf and Bilbo. He's wondering about how he will find his new life among the elves; but what they find is a surprise to all...
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Galadriel, Elrond, Frodo, Bilbo, Celeborn, or Gandalf and nor do I even** **pretend to have created the magnificent Aman and Alqualondë. These are all manifestations of Tolkien's imagination and without him my story would have never been.**

**Aman's Destruction**

-XLightfoot-

"What's it like?" Frodo asked as he joined Galadriel at the bow of the dragon shaped ship, its pure white sails billowing in the pleasant air behind them. Galadriel turned towards the little hobbit and smiled warmly.

"My dear Frodo, never in all this life will you set your eyes on a more magnificent sight. Golden forests, silvery-rivers and the sweeping Pelori; cities of ancient times gleam in the light of moon and sun, streets filled with the songs and poetry of old," Galadriel suddenly wiped at a single tear rolling down her fair cheek. "And my beautiful daughter Celebrian how long have I dreamed of seeing her again."

"What happened to her?" Frodo asked hoping his curiosity won't offend the gracious elf. To his relief Galadriel smiled again, but this time gravely.

"She was taken by the filthy orcs, tortured and anguished, poisoned by their evil tools,"

Frodo stared at Galadriel in horror, if he had known that such horrors would be recalled in telling the tale he would not have asked.

"Her sons rescued her but, alas; it was too late, although her bodily wounds were healed by Elrond, her mind was troubled ever after. She sailed to Aman five-hundred-and-twelve years ago."

There was a moment of silence as Frodo waited for the elf's tears to flow and dissipate. Galadriel seemed even more fair and beautiful as she cried, her golden hair hung loosely over her shoulders, glimmering as they moved with the air.

"If I had known then what evil horrors were contained in the shores of Middle-Earth I would have stayed in Aman," Galadriel said after a moment, staring intently at the lightening horizon.

Frodo followed her gaze, he had never seen such open waters, and it was breathtaking in its magnificence. He would never have seen such splendour if he had remained behind with Sam and the others. A question itched in Frodo's mind; he had always wondered why the elves sailed across the sea to Middle-Earth.

"Why did the elves sail across the sea?" Frodo asked tentatively.

"Never would I have thought that hobbits were such a curios people," Elrond said as he joined the elf and hobbit at the bow. Galadriel let out a musical laugh that filled Frodo's heart with new vigour.

"Set apart from the world as you are not a care or interest of the things outside your grassland home of the Shire," Elrond finished, joining in Galadriel's hearty laughter. Frodo felt his face warm.

"We are curios, Lord Elrond, just not in anything other than growing crops, drinking ale and the story telling of long dead legends," Frodo said faintly joining in their laughter. "Bilbo is a rare phenomenon in the Shire."

"Indeed he is, but so are you, Frodo Baggins of the Shire," Galadriel said lifting her hand and ruffling Frodo's hair. Even such a relaxed gesture from the elven lady was graceful and somewhat haughty. "But to return to your question, Frodo, my kin was deceived by Melkor who was after the three Silmarils. He swept us up against the Valar, filling our hearts with doubt and conquest. I, myself, was hungry to rule a land of my own for Aman did not belong to us."

"And now we return." Elrond said pleasantly. "Nae saian luume', Celebrian." Elrond added to the cloudless sky and walked off, joining Gandalf a little ways away.

"What did he say," Frodo asked and Galadriel smiled.

"He misses my daughter, 'it has been too long'," Galadriel replied and she too walked off, leaving Frodo to stare at the open seas. Fear and wonder roiled in Frodo's heart. He was unsure of what to expect of the elves' Undying Lands, and that was what made him fear it. But the knowledge that Gandalf and Bilbo will be standing next to him was what gave him heart.

Frodo was about to turn around and head below deck to join his uncle when his eyes suddenly catched the vague outline of a mountain. Frodo's eyes shot back to where he had seen the mountain and surely enough, there it was, a mysterious wonder that floated at the edge of the horizon in a veil of clouds.

"There it is!" Frodo yelled and Galadriel and Elrond was next to him at once, their fair faces intent on the distant land that was becoming larger and clearer. Gandalf stopped next to Frodo and placed a hand on his shoulder as if the old wizard could sense Frodo's nervousness.

"Are you ready my boy?" He asked teasingly a faint smile appearing underneath his snowy beard. Frodo gave a nervous smile in reply as he stared up at Gandalf.

"I hope so," Frodo admitted gingerly. Gandalf nodded encouragingly.

"I'm sure –"

"No!" Frodo and Gandalf both started as Galadriel's terror filled voice ripped through the air. Frodo's head whipped around to stare at the elf in shock.

"How?" Elrond gasped next to Galadriel his elven eyes wide. Hesitantly Frodo glanced in the direction of their distraught eyes and his heart sank to the decks below. Frodo didn't know how he could have missed it before, it was as clear as day.

Only a few yards in front of them, drifting in the restless water was the ruins of another elven ship. Wood boards and broken mast all bobbed in the water, flames still eating at the white sails and bodies strewn all around, bodies of elves that shouldn't have died for at least ten-thousand more years. But in the shadow of the great plume of black smoke another ship lay in ruin and the shadow of that one drifted another and another. The two elves next to Frodo was crying openly now, crying for the lives of their kin forcibly taken by forces unknown. On the other side of Frodo stood Gandalf as motionless as a statue but eyes glaring at the ruins and dead in silent growing fury.

"What foul thing could have done this?" Gandalf breathed as their ship passed what must have been the seventh ruined ship. Frodo couldn't even begin to imagine and instead shook his head in disbelief and horror.

Aman was clear now, only a few minutes sailing away. To Frodo it felt as if the sail had gathered speed with the two elves' growing desperation. Galadriel's face was contorted with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks in silver; Elrond seemed unable to control his grief as well, as his face was just as wet as his kin's.

Great pillars of black rose from the shores of Aman, spreading deeper into the land. What Frodo guessed was the golden forests Galadriel had mentioned was ruined and broken. But that wasn't what held Frodo's attention; it was a city not unlike the Grey Havens, majestic silvery-grey buildings, marble statues and intricate gardens. Or rather what it would have looked like if it weren't burning and crumbling into ruins.

Even from here Frodo could clearly see the forms of dead elves as they lay killed whilst trying to protect their home. Bodies drifted all around the ship now in rivers of blood and debris, staining the white hull of the ship.

Frodo felt sick to his stomach with dread and the acrid smell that hung in the air.

"Elrond, Galadriel, this is the work of orcs, we have to turn around or at least go somewhere safe," Gandalf said trying to glance in every direction as the ship drifted into Alqualondë's harbour, ruins of ships drifting in every direction.

"Gandalf we cannot linger," Galadriel whispered through sobs of grief, "we have to help protect Alqualondë."

"Galadriel, see reason, Alqualondë is lost, everybody's dead," Gandalf pressed and she whirled about.

"How can you even suggest... all the elves are here, Gandalf, only a hundred or so remained in Middle-earth... if we do not help the elves will perish!" She cried through gritted teeth. Frodo shivered, he never thought that in his life he would see an elf in this light, helpless and irrational.

"I agree, Gandalf, we have no choice," Elrond said, Frodo thought he saw a glint of defiance in the elf's expression.

Gandalf sighed heavily. "We are but three capable to fight and two unarmed hobbits... what can we possibly do?"

The elves ignored Gandalf as the boat reached the gangplank and they hurried to get off of the boat. Gandalf hurried after but reaching the gangplank he turned towards Frodo with a stern expression.

"Go below deck, get Bilbo and barricade yourselves in the Hold. Find any weapon that you can," Gandalf rambled and ran off after the two elves, who were already disappearing between the ruined buildings.

Frodo did as Gandalf asked hurrying below deck. Bilbo was sleeping in his cabin, his old withering form grey and drawn.

"Bilbo, Bilbo, wake up. Bilbo wake up!" Frodo yelled shaking his uncle until his blue eyes fluttered open.

"Huh... what? Frodo, what's going on, my boy?" Bilbo yawned wearily.

"Bilbo, we have to go, come quick," Frodo said as he helped Bilbo from his bed, pulling the old hobbit from his cabin and down towards the Hold.

Abruptly Frodo could hear monstrous noises that chilled him to the bone seep through the wood of the ship. Frodo tried desperately to listen for the sounds of battle but none came. Heart beating alarmingly fast Frodo lead Bilbo into the Hold and began stacking crates and barrels in front of the door.

Above deck Frodo heard racing footsteps, pounding onto the ship followed by growls, hisses and menacing cries and snarls in the guttural tongue of the orcs. Frodo frantically searched the Hold for anything he could use as a weapon but the closest thing he got was a lid of one of the wooden crates. The noises of the orcs were spreading throughout the ship and Frodo felt himself go cold from head to toe. He didn't know where Gandalf, Galadriel or Elrond were but he was sure that they will not be coming to rescue him or Bilbo.

Frodo closed his eyes as footsteps rushed towards the Hold and then the door creaked and cried in protest as they started bashing the door. Taking a long deep breath Frodo only let it out when the door burst open and a horde of orcs stormed in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aman's Destruction**

**~Part 2~**

-XLightfoot-

In the once grand city, Alqualondë, now crumbling and littered with the bodies of the dead, a morose figure stood staring at the heavens. Rivers of blood flowed from wounds underneath her shredded white dress and her once golden hair was instead scarlet curls. A weary hand lifted before her, reaching towards the golden burst on the horizon, waves of pink and purple pulsing from the sun's descent. It would have been a wondrous sight if it were not framed by great pillars of black smoke and accompanied with the acrid smell of death and the stench of orcs.

"In all my life never did I think that when my eyes would again be directed to the marvellous skies above Aman that instead of beauty I will only see smoke and the glow of fire..." A single tear escaped Galadriel's eye and she let her arm drop lamely to her side. Pain erupted from the cuts and bruises littering her body but she ignored it as she turned towards her companion still crouched on the ground next to her.

"How is he?" Galadriel asked as she gingerly lowered herself to sit next to him. She frowned at the orcs standing a few feet away, laughing as she flinched from her three broken ribs.

Elrond glanced at her with unconcealed concern. "He's not doing well. Gandalf will die if not treated with the right herbs before dawn." The former lord of Rivendell's hands was pressed tightly over a deep gash on the old wizard's chest, blood gushed between his fingers, counting away their owner's life.

Galadriel shook her head helplessly as she stroked the old bearded man's cheek. Gandalf was unconscious but his breaths came in ragged gasps and his face was slowly fading, already his skin was cold to the touch.

"Namárie, Mithrandir, cuio nin mellon," Galadriel bent over the wizard and touched her lips lightly to his forehead. "Le meluvan úne."

"What's wrong she-elf?" One of the orcs spat, although he spoke in the common tongue his guttural accent still made Galadriel shiver. "The old wizard finally dead?" The group of orcs started laughing and Galadriel stood followed by Elrond. Both may have been battered, bruised and shadows of their former majestic statuesque selves but their presence as they stared at the orcs with expressionless faces made the group uncomfortable. The orcs stared at each other nervously as Galadriel and Elrond seemed to glow with power beyond the comprehension of low life such as orcs.

Abruptly something hard hit the back of Galadriel's head and she was sent sprawling to the ground with a yelp of surprise. With Galadriel's and Elrond's hold on the orcs broken, they started to laugh as Elrond rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms.

"What did I tell you mutts about letting elves into your heads?" A heavily built orc snapped as he stepped past Galadriel and Elrond. Galadriel blinked as she tried to get rid of the tiny lights playing in her vision as she stared up at the... thing. He must have been the orcs' leader because the others shrank away fearfully as he approached, each one of them muttering in their filthy tongue.

"Get them down in the pits," He barked when he reached the group of orcs hitting one with a hefty blow from his fist. The others scrambled around their leader, giving him a wide berth, and grabbed Galadriel roughly by the hair and feet. Four had to wrestle Elrond to the ground before he too was dragged away. Galadriel fought hard against the orcs' grip but she couldn't break free.

Pulling and pushing Galadriel glanced over her shoulder to where Gandalf still laid untouched, the orcs' leader was standing over him a long black spear clutched in one hand. He was saying something in his foal tongue as he lifted the spear. Galadriel fought harder against the hands holding her fast.

"No! Gandalf! Let go of me you foal beasts!" She shouted as the leader raised the spear even higher. Gandalf raised a shaking hand in front of him as if to shield his body from the spear before...

"Gandaaaaaaaaalf!" Galadriel shouted her eyes closed shut. She didn't want to see it but the sound was enough. An ear-splitting laugh broke out amongst the orcs as they led Galadriel and Elrond into dark pits, the foal beings have dug in Aman's pure soil.

Galadriel cried freely for the loss of her dear friend. Elrond was singing a song under his breath, tears rolling down his cheeks. Galadriel couldn't be sure but she thought the song was not of Gandalf but about her daughter, Celebrían. A new wave of grief overtook Galadriel, grief for her daughter, for the elflings and her elven-kin; everybody was dead or going to die. The race of elves is no more...

The last thought made Galadriel gasp for breath. How can a race of immortals die out? But then Galadriel thought about her husband still in Middle-earth. She didn't know if he will ever come to Aman, she hoped he wouldn't. If he did he'll just be killed like her and Elrond. For all the years of his life Celeborn and the other few who had remained behind will wonder in Middle-earth knowing that their race ends with them. A hysterical cry escaped Galadriel's lips and the orcs laughed heartily.

Elrond tried not to listen to Galadriel's crying as the orcs led them deeper and deeper underground. The air was getting stuffy and cold but Elrond couldn't even begin to care. All he did was sing, sing songs about the strength of elves. He knew Galadriel must have given up hope but he could not. He cried for the dead but he would not join them, he will not. Deep in his heart he hoped that neither have his wife, that he could somehow save her from this predicament. He did not know if Frodo or Bilbo had managed to survive but if they had he'll save them as well. This was not the end, it couldn't be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Aman's Destruction**

**~Part 3~**

-XLightfoot-

Frodo struggled with all his might as the orcs carried him and Bilbo from the lower decks. Their stench filled Frodo's nostrils making him gag as he twisted his body this way and that in an attempt to break their grip. He glanced at Bilbo every so often just to make sure the old hobbit was still there. Bilbo was cursing and struggling as well but his old body had no effect on the orcs, who laughed amusedly at the two hobbits' vain attempts at escape. Concern for his uncle was the only thing on Frodo's mind.

"Bilbo, stop struggling! Bilbo please..." Frodo shouted, the more the old hobbit struggled the rougher the orcs handled him. Already Bilbo was covered in bruises and cuts. Frodo could feel his own injuries but they seemed distant, instead every wound on his uncle felt like mortally wounds to himself. Bilbo didn't seem to hear Frodo's plight and he wanted to repeat it but then the wood ceiling parted above to reveal the darkening sky. Its purple pink complexion was dusted with the filth of black smoke.

Abruptly Frodo felt himself heave into the air and the orcs' hands left his body, for a moment he didn't know what was going on before he realised that he was falling. The orcs had thrown him over the railing of the elven ship. Frodo yelped as the wood gangplank rushed to meet him. Thirteen feet went by in a second and Frodo yelled out in pain as he crashed into the wood, pain lancing through his arm.

Gasping for breath Frodo rolled onto his back clutching his arm, which hung in an unnatural angle. It was broken. There was another loud thump next to Frodo and he went cold as a sickening crunch sounded through the orcs' laughter. Frodo hoped beyond hope that it wasn't Bilbo, but he knew it was, how could it not be? Frodo turned his head and sure enough there he was.

Bilbo's glazed eyes stared into the distance, unseeing and unblinking. An agonized scream escaped Frodo's throat as he crawled towards where his uncle's broken and twisted body lay unmoving. Despite knowing it for a fact, Frodo grabbed Bilbo's shirt and shook him lightly whispering his uncle's name as he begged for him to wake up, to take a new breath.

"Aha, why'd you have to go and do that?" One of the orcs that had waited next to the ship asked. The others began to laugh heartily.

"Because now we have food!" One orc roared and the laughter grew louder.

Frodo went cold as if he had been suddenly covered in snow. Tears still rolled down his cheeks as he stared at his uncle in horror. This was not happening... how can it be real? Real or not he won't let them eat his uncle! Frodo whirled about with menacingly cry. The orcs' laughter died immediately as they stared at the hobbit in abashed shock. Frodo's cry still hung in the air as he stormed at the closest orc. Despite his small body the orc and Frodo tumbled over. Without hesitation or waiting for their bodies to come to a standstill Frodo began pelting the orc with his small fists. The orc yelled in surprise and pain as the hobbit's feet, elbows and knees found their mark. Frodo didn't care if he died because of this, nothing mattered except that his uncle was dead and these filthy orcs wanted to eat him.

Frodo started screaming again as he swung his arms and legs, blood spraying all over him in black splashes. The orc's struggling had long ago seized but Frodo continued until rough hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him off of the bloodied mess. Pain pulsed from his fists but he didn't care as he struggled to free himself.

"This one's a lively one, ain't ya?" The orc that held Frodo's arms behind his back yelled, laughing again. The other orcs joined in, giving their dead companion no further thought.

"Yeah, I'd take a piece of him instead," Another yelled and suddenly the orcs were packed tightly around Frodo, grabbing his arms and legs, hands ripping at clothes and skin. Frodo yelled in pain, his eyes closed shut. He could almost feel his tendons tear away, his joints pulling apart and his skin ripping. He could feel the end coming...

Abruptly a deafening roar ripped through the air, it seemed to vibrate the very air surrounding Frodo and the orcs. Suddenly Frodo felt himself hit the wood deck as the orcs whimpered in fear and scurried away. Frodo gasped for breath, his skin was covered in scratches and bite marks and his joints pained. His muscles were shaking uncontrollably as Frodo rolled onto his side. The roar had changed into the orcish tongue, a series of guttural sounds that made Frodo's hair stand on end.

A heavily built orc stepped past Frodo towards where Bilbo laid. Frodo willed himself to move but his body refused. The large orc stared down at Bilbo's body for a moment before, with only two large bounds, grabbed one of the orcs shouting something in orcish. Despite himself and what is happening Frodo shivered as felt sick as the language rolled over him as if the language itself was a curse or a plague. The smaller orc whimpered something in return but the larger one seemed displeased with what he heard and ripped his head off. Frodo stared in disbelief. The other orcs were backing away as if fearful that they would be next. But instead of shredding the others to bits as Frodo hoped the larger orc simply pointed at Bilbo then at him.

The orcs quickly responded, hurrying towards Bilbo, tying a rope around his ankles before dragging him off. Frodo tried to fight back as hand grabbed him as well but it was feeble. Luckily he was thrown over an orc's shoulder before the orc hurried after his companions.

Every step caused pain to pulse throughout Frodo's body, but despite it being almost unbearable Frodo could only think of what was going to happen. It was obvious that the larger orc was angry about Bilbo's death. It made Frodo confused, what did the orcs want in Aman except kill everyone?


	4. Chapter 4

**Aman's Destruction**

**~Part 4~**

-XLightfoot-

Deep below the burning plains of Alqualondë, amidst the soils of Aman, one would have never thought that that they were in the land of the Valinor. Large tunnels have been eaten away from the flesh of Aman and replaced with a stench that only the wicked could endure. Cries of pain and agony sifted through the very soil, dripping off the tunnel walls like poison. And then there were the guttural malevolent sounds of the orcs as they spread their taint further into Aman.

Galadriel's skin crawled and her mind recoiled from an evil in the tunnels she had not even sensed from Sauron. The orcs' revolting laugher swept over Galadriel as she gagged then vomited, phlegm rose up her throat and she hunched over as another wave of nausea buffeted her. Galadriel was jerked upright by hands not caring if their nails bit into her skin or hard grips threatened to break bones. But Galadriel did not care; she was captivated by a stagnant hopelessness.

Numbly Galadriel felt her body lurch forward and her legs struggled to keep up with the quick change in her balance. Her feet caught and she stumbled. Galadriel was vaguely expecting the muddy ground but instead soft gentle hands swept her up. Galadriel blinked, glancing up at the owner of the hands. It was Elrond. The former lord of Rivendel was staring back at her worriedly. His mouth moved desperately but the sound of his voice just washed over her. His musical voice could not pierce the veil of agonizing screams and the filthy tongue of the orcs. The sounds pressed down on Galadriel, sending their taint deeper and deeper into her being until she felt empty and lost. Until she could not remember what other sounds sounded like. Closing her eyes Galadriel tried imagining the sounds of birds, music, poetry, elflings' laughter, the sound of a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves of the mallorn trees and... and... A scream ripped through the tunnel, jerking Galadriel out of her reverie but instead of opening her eyes she closed them tighter forcing her mind to return to her memories... and her husband, Celeborn. How he would always fold her in his arms, kissing her forehead before humming her favourite song. How he would hold her tight until his warmth filled her. She could almost feel it now, spreading through her body...

Once again Galadriel felt herself jerk forward, the orcs shouting something in their accursed tongue. She registered vaguely that she was falling but the momentary warmth that had filled her had been replaced with the almost tangible feel of overwhelming hopelessness, sapping her of any will to protect herself. With her eyes still closed Galadriel felt herself hit the slime covered muddy ground, a grunt of pain escaping Elrond's mouth somewhere near her. Pain jabbed from her own shoulder but Galadriel no longer cared, she was lost... just like the race of elves.

There was a metallic screech followed by a loud bang. Galadriel tried to guess where they were, her eyes still closed. A slaughter house? A prison? Her tomb?

"How?" It was Elrond who spoke, his voice a mix of disbelief and wonder. "Cormamin lindua ele lle, Celebrian!"

The mention of her daughter's name was like a jolt to Galadriel's mind. Her eyes shot open and she whirled about, mud spraying around her at the movement. And there she was. A tear ran down Galadriel's cheek as she slowly rose to her feet. Elrond, on the other hand, rushed forward to embrace his wife. "How is it that you are alive? What happened?" Elrond exclaimed pulling her tighter to him. Celebrian simply smiled as she laid an affectionate hand against Elrond's cheek, as if she was unsure that it was really him. Then she glanced at Galadriel and her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but instead a grievous sob escaped her lips.

"Emmë!" Celebrian cried and Galadriel rushed to her daughter's side hugging her tightly; afraid that if she let go her daughter would vanish before her eyes. It was only then, over her daughter's shoulder, that Galadriel noticed that they were in a large cavern. Water seeped through the ground ceiling above, dripping to the ground below almost every four inches as if raining. But it was the haggard haunted figures that caught her attention. They were emerging from the shadows of alcoves in the cavern walls like scared animals from a hole. Galadriel gasped as she took in the faces of her people, of elves so haunted and sunken that they were mere shadows of their former selves. They were staring at Galadriel and Elrond as if expecting them to attack at any second.

"What happened here?" Elrond asked when Celebrian let go of Galadriel. She wanted to know herself, but a small piece of her didn't want to know.

Celebrian turned towards her husband her face falling and tears began to flow from her eyes as if she had held it in till now and could not any longer. "They came a week ago, thousands of them..." Celebrian's eyes turned glassy as she relived the moment. Galadriel felt her heart rip apart to see her daughter this way. Celebrian had looked like this before, the night Elrohir and Elladan had saved her from the tortures long ago.

"... We were no match. They came with such ruthlessness and bloodlust that we could only stand by and watch!" Celebrian covered her face with her hands as if she wanted to block out the images. "I- I- we could- they killed a youngling right in front of me and I only stared in horror. I was too scared!" Celebrian suddenly jerked out of Elrond's hands. The other elves in the cavern jumped at the sudden movement. Elrond took a step towards her humming a song Galadriel recognised well. She used to hum it to Celebrian when she was still a youngling. The memory brought more grief than Galadriel expected. So much has changed since then.

"It's okay, love, look at me," Elrond whispered in between his humming. Celebrian stared at Elrond blindly still haunted by the memories of that night. With another step Elrond was close enough to grab Celebrian and pull her in close. Celebrian struggled, screaming as if it was an orc who had grabbed her but her husband stood strong. After a few minutes, minutes that tore at Galadriel's very soul, Celebrian was finally calm, crying again into Elrond's shoulder. But her calm didn't last long.

Suddenly noises sounded from the tunnel leading to the cavern they were in and Celebrian screamed with all her might, fists and feet slamming into Elrond until he let go. The other elves acted similarly, cries of terror escaping each mouth as they scrambled desperately for the alcoves in the cavern walls. Galadriel turned towards the large iron barred gate that closed the cavern and her heart stopped completely, every muscle in her body stiffening in horror.

Three orcs were just emerging from the shadows of the tunnel. The orc in front hurried to unlock the gate; the other two were dragging a blackened mess between them. It was that, that had frozen Galadriel in place. That blackened mess was the dead body of an elf. Galadriel thought it to be a dead body because she doubted that anything, not even an orc, could survive such wounds. The elf's original fare skin was all but replaced with rotting black flesh, chunks of skin has been removed and stitched back together. The elf's head could have been mistaken for a goblin any day, with half of his face peeled off to reveal the white skull below. The rest of his body didn't look any better. His arms looked as if they had been completely crushed days ago and left to grow back irregularly and at strange angles. Some of his fingers had been stitched together, the skin already growing together. Galadriel gagged as she turned her back on the elf. It looked nothing like an elf anymore but rather a... an... Galadriel's world tumbled away from under her as realisation struck. Abruptly she was more aware of the cowering elves in the alcoves of the cavern. They all bared signs of similar transfigurations. Galadriel's throat constricted as she searched for her daughter. Surely she had looked fine! But the moment Galadriel's eyes fell on Celebrian she felt her stomach turn. One of Celebrian's arms was as black as the night. Pieces of flesh have been removed and the skin stitched back together, green and yellow puss seeping from the wounds, and the arm seemed to have been broken on several places and tied with sticks so that it could grow back the way the orcs wanted it to.

Galadriel could not breathe as horror gripped her whole body.

They were turning them all into orcs!


End file.
